


Brownies

by lexieconextreme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brownies in the bunker, Demon!Dean, Destiel if you squint - Freeform, Fairies, cas is a sweetheart, dean has nothing but regrets, like wow, the winchesters are really unobservant, you have to squint really hard to find the destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-17 05:33:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16089080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lexieconextreme/pseuds/lexieconextreme
Summary: The Winchesters are looked after in the bunker. Tiny eyes watch them at all times and care for them when they can. The Winchesters are good masters, though they don’t know it.





	Brownies

**Author's Note:**

> So I was looking at a list of mythical creatures when I suddenly came across brownies. How wonderful would that be, having brownies in the bunker? And how would Sam and Dean react to them? Ooh, the possibilities!
> 
> What is a brownie?  
> A brownie is a small house-elf-like creature. They’re typically considered fairies or house spirits that do chores for the owner of the house. For the purposes of this story, brownies are only a few inches tall, five at the most. Enjoy!

The brownies enjoyed watching after the Winchesters. They’d never really had good masters before, so these boys were a nice change. For centuries, they’d dealt with cruel masters who made messes of their homes on purpose, never left milk or cream, and sometimes even presented them with clothes. Such cruel masters!

Then they had found this bunker. At the time, the Men of Letters had just built it and two had moved in. Jenkins and Haggerty had not been bad men, but they were rather dull and had not even known about the brownies’ existence! Something the brownies actually found quite refreshing. If their existence was not known, then the masters could not be cruel.

Then that awful witch came and Jenkins died, leaving the brownies with only a single master. The brownies were always careful not to disturb that glass jar with the gray goop, for they knew that the witch was contained inside it. Haggerty, too, looked after that jar, but there would be no getting Dorothy back. A fact that Haggerty seemed to not be able to see.

There were times when Haggerty would not emerge from the library for days on end, and with no one else in the bunker, his health and hygiene grew very poor. When the brownies prepared meals for him, he hardly seemed to notice, scarfing it down quickly and carefully so as not to stain the books.

Then Haggerty had died as well, the Men of Letters not long after. The brownies were left alone for many decades. Some left the bunker in order to go out into the world and find new masters, but most stayed in the hope that new people would come along.

Then, finally, two did. The Winchester brothers, hunters like Dorothy had been, found the bunker. They looked around them in wonderment, amazed at the bunker’s spaciousness and resources. The brownies took an instant liking to these two (admittedly handsome, even to the brownies’ standards) boys. They were often broken and dysfunctional and even, at times, at odds, but they were close and always pulled together when it was necessary. 

The brownies were all too happy to serve them. And slowly, they began to adore them.

The Winchesters barely realized there was another presence in the bunker. The brownies had magic, magic that was mostly used for simple chores, things these boys wouldn’t notice unless they specifically looked for them. A swept floor here, dusted shelves there. When they found a book that had been damaged, the brownies repaired it. Even Sam, who loved to search through the shelves for an interesting read, never noticed. 

Likewise, Dean never noticed the cleaning in the kitchen. When the Winchesters had first arrived and before they could fully explore the bunker, the brownies had scoured every pot and pan within an inch of its life so that it shone in preparation for their new masters. Even these boys, who could be extraordinarily unobservant at times, would have noticed changes like that. The brownies were always careful to be discreet. The Winchesters were more open-minded than most hunters, it was true, but there was no telling what would happen to the brownies once their existence was found out. 

One time, in the middle of the night, the brownies were doing their quiet cleaning when, out of nowhere, Dean’s angel friend, Castiel, appeared. The brownies froze like deer in the headlights, staring up at the angel in utter terror. (They were only a few inches tall after all; he could easily squash them under his foot if he wanted.) Castiel stared back oddly for a moment, then kneeled carefully beside the nearest brownie.

“I will not hurt you, you need not be afraid.”

The shaking brownies, recovering from their fright, believed him and nodded. Cas looked around at the many fairies dotting the floor, tables, and bookshelves, almost smiling at the sight of them. “I assume the boys do not know of your existence?”

They nodded as one.

“I will not speak of you,” the angel promised. “Your secret is safe with me.”

The brownies thanked him profusely in their high voices, cutting off suddenly when the sound of a door hinge creaked through the bunker. Castiel looked down at them, speaking softly. “You had better hide.”

They all vanished quickly, leaving the angel alone in the library. He stood just as Dean came in, shuffling and yawning. He paused at the sight of his angel. “Hey, Cas. What’re you doin’ here?”

“Information about Metatron,” Castiel answered. “I’ve acquired important testimony from one of my spies.”

Dean nodded, rubbing at his tired eyes. “Fine. I’ll get Sam.”

When the Winchesters left, their angel with them, the brownies came out again to finish their cleaning. When they moved into the kitchen, it was to their great delight that they found two bowls filled with cream sitting on the table waiting for them.

Months later, Abaddon had been killed, but at a price. The brownies had been frightened the second time Dean came back after sweet Kevin’s death. The angry red mark on his arm periodically released pulsing waves of evil, occasionally flaring when Dean was truly upset. Dean himself seemed angrier and more out of control, but at the same time, more driven. He was determined to kill Metatron now, and his rampant emotions sometimes frightened the brownies.

Castiel came to visit when he could, but he had his own arms full with Metatron. His love and concern for his hunter radiated more than the evil of the mark and the brownies were glad for it. The mood in the bunker these days was more subdued than anything else, so they were starved for at least somewhat-positive energy. Whenever Castiel left, the brownies always found a bowl of cream or two waiting for them in a quiet place.

Then came the awful day when Sam dragged Dean’s body home. They watched in horrified silence as the man they all loved lay dead upon his bed, Crowley speaking over him and placing the First Blade in his hands. They watched as the dark energy from the Mark spread all over his body and spirit, and they watched as he sat up, the black eyes of a demon blinking back at them.

The brownies were too terrified to do much of anything.

And then, many weeks and terrible acts later, Sam brought Dean back yet again, still a terrifying demon. Sam locked his brother in the dungeon and injected him with blood, then left in order to gather himself back together. The brownies resolved to stay with Dean for as long as it took, as terrified as they were. If this demon Dean was released into the bunker, there was no telling what he might do.

But then he spoke to them.

“I know you’re there,” he said, in a soft sing-song voice. “I can feel you watchin’ me.”

They stayed hidden in their nooks and crannies, watching him. They were scared, but they stayed.

“I’ve known about you for a while now, actually,” he continued. “Like I wouldn’t notice the cleaning, the repairs? Please. I wouldn’t be much of a hunter if I  _ hadn’t _ noticed. Sam still hasn’t if that tells you anything. But I did my research, and I let you be.”

The brownies’ eyes widened, surprised. Their beloved Dean had known about them, and let them stay?

“God knows why I did that.” He laughed unpleasantly. “And I’ll tell you what. When I get out of these chains, I’ll hunt down every single one of you, and I’ll rip your heads off.”

They all froze, staring at the master they had once adored. Then, one of the bravest among them spoke out.

“Sam will cure you before that happens,” he said confidently, ignoring the others who tried to shush him. “And once he does that, things will go back to normal.”

Dean began to laugh, louder and louder until eventually it drew Sam back into the room. The younger Winchester stared at his brother.

“Dude. What the hell are you laughing about?”

“Nothin’,” he chuckled. “Except that I’m really going to enjoy it when I rip your throat out.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed, and Dean continued with a malicious smile. 

“With my  _ teeth _ .”

Sam only shook his head and left again, leaving Dean and the brownies alone in the dark.

A day later, Dean did escape. And he did as he had promised. He hunted down the brownies and brutally murdered seventeen of them before Cas and Sam finally managed to stop him. While the brownies mourned their dead, Dean’s black eyes were vanishing. 

Cas came to find them a few minutes later, horror written across his features.

“How many?” he asked softly. 

“Seventeen,” answered the second bravest, for the bravest was among the dead.

Cas sighed sadly. “I am so sorry for your loss. Dean is no longer a demon, he will feel great remorse and guilt for what he did.”

The brownies chose not to respond to that and went about preparing the ritual for their dead brethren.

Later that night, the brownies were not cleaning as they normally would, distraught and exhausted as they were by the day’s events. They sat in their hiding spots and wept for their family. They barely noticed when Dean joined them. He sat at one of the tables in the library, staring at the beer in his hand like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to drink it or not.

One by one, the brownies turned to watch him. Belatedly, they realized that the usually-stoic human was crying. Not wrenching sobs or anything, though a few of the brownies suspected that that would have been the case if the Mark were not still upon his arm. No, there were a few tears, rolling down his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered brokenly. “I’m so, so sorry for what I did to you.”

The brownies watched him cry for five minutes, ten. Then, slowly, one by one, they crawled out of their hidey holes and approached the table where he sat. They climbed up the legs, the chairs and stood on the tabletop, facing him. Dean stared at them in shock, beer forgotten on the table beside him.

The brownies walked across the table until they were less than a foot from him. They used to be fifty in number, but now they were only thirty-three. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again.

“We know,” the second bravest answered, then stepped further forward, stood on their toes and kissed the hunter on the cheek. One by one, they all kissed him. It was a sign of forgiveness and loyalty. Then, once they had all kissed him, they vanished once again.

Dean sat in his seat for another few moments before standing and making his way back to his room, where he really did let go of himself.

The brownies began to clean the bunker, and after Castiel left in the morning, they found cream waiting for them in the kitchen.

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure when the next part will come out, but it will at some point! It’ll probably cover seasons 10 through 13.  
> Thanks for reading and don’t hesitate to review!


End file.
